


Caveman

by orphan_account



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Anal Sex, Camping, First Time, I'm a horrible person, M/M, One Shot, POV First Person, Present Tense, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-04
Updated: 2016-06-04
Packaged: 2018-07-12 05:31:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7087240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A night out under the stars stirs up a primal hunger that refuses to be ignored.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caveman

**Author's Note:**

> It's Rhett's fault for those lingering, thirsty looks while Link changed into the Elsa costume after the Fresh vs. Frozen Taste Test (GMM 936). Got all this smutty animal hunger in my head. Shame on you, McLaughlin.

It makes me feel like a caveman. And it’s so ironic, this feeling so carnal and raw, base and instinctual, yet nothing of it built on the human imperative. Need is built for survival, and my need is not based on the survival of mankind, only on the want of my depths, the hunger of a beast for its prey. I need this like I need oxygen and sustenance and fire to warm me.

The passions of humanity are fused and confused as they roll into one another, hunger and thirst and rage and lust, all becoming one, one becoming the other. I feel them all in this place, the stars brilliant far from the orange haze of the city, the sounds of the earth alive and vibrant in the darkness. My body and soul tap into the rhythm of the wild and my senses awaken. I am man, and I am need, and I am alive.

The object of my need is encased in the darkness, and I feel the heat of him beside me, the radiating, breathing life of him, hearing the breath move through his soft lips. He lies on his side, relaxed and vulnerable, his dark hair disheveled and delicate against his forehead, his bottomless blue eyes now hidden behind the paper skin of his eyelids. He is the yin to my yang, his slack muscles the pair to my wide-eyed agitation, his lethargy to my alertness, his deep breaths to my shallow panting. The skin on the palms of my hands prickles, the poles of my soul drawn to the skin of his body. In another world I would still my hunger/thirst/rage/lust with an unspoken word of caution, but here and now I am both beast and man and my appetite is the master of my soul.

Beneath the electricity in the palm of my hand I feel the hairs on his arm stand erect, reaching for me as I approach. His body knows mine is his match even while his mind sleeps. The goosebumps leap to caress my hand and then his skin relaxes, curling into me like a cat that has decided I am welcome. My palm takes its home firmly against his muscular forearm, my thumb stroking back and forth, teaching his body that I am here for its good, for its satisfaction, and yes, I am most welcome. As soon as my pleasure in this small patch of his skin has been met the hunger has opened itself wider still, and I won’t stop it. My finger slides into the crease of his elbow, stroking the soft flesh there and trailing up into the inside of his arm where the nerves can’t sleep. A shuddering breath escapes his soft mouth, his forehead creasing slightly. I won’t stop it.

With a gentle pressure I press against his shoulder to roll him to his back, barely restraining the beast that would shove him back roughly and without mercy. The motion stirs him slightly and he raises his arms above his head, smacking his lips and sighing heavily before relaxing again. My eyes burn, the moonlit sight of him on display above where his sleeping bag drops off at his waist. I feel the caveman resurfacing, the man-beast clawing its way out of my chest with grunts and groans and roars for conquest. My fingertips stretch out of their own accord, dipping into the triangular pits above his collarbones, tracing the bone outward and back in again on the underside before beginning their anticipated descent. My palms are hungry for him and refuse the fingers their solitary meal, my hands flattening greedily as I span the width of his bare chest. I lean in, drowning in his heat, travelling down over the smooth plains of flesh, the terrain marked by coarse dark hair and the ripe beige peaks of his nipples, rounding the base of his pecs and continuing on to the incandescent ripples of his abdomen. My breathing is erratic and fierce but I have no mind for anything but the glory of his body and the raw want of my own. I won’t stop it.

My thumbs trace the edges of his navel and the dark line trailing below it, my hands gripping his waist, pressing into the sharp bones of his hips. Reluctantly I release my grip for a moment, just long enough to tug the cover down lower on his body, to show him to me, this man who is already mine, has always been mine. I return my hands to his waist with my teeth clenched, my thumbs tracing that sharp bony edge again, my mind raging with the image of the way I would use his body with my hands gripped this way around his narrow waist, the way I would hold him still as I drove him to madness and myself to sanity. I can’t stop it.

My eyes rise to wholly take him in again when I freeze, the brilliant blue of his irises fixed on the hazel-green of mine. I won’t flinch; the carnal hunger is bigger than the memory of my self-consciousness. I hold his eyes in challenge, my hands still spanning his waist, my intentions plainly evident. He bends his elbows to rest his hands behind his head, and I watch as the blue of his eyes is overtaken by the black of his pupils, my challenge received and met. 

He kicks off what remains of his sleeping bag and spreads his knees in welcome, wiggling his hips and sliding down to press himself against my body. I can feel him against me, his arousal growing, his face open and wanton. His hands leave the back of his head and reach into my hair, gripping it firmly and bringing my mouth to his, his moan reverberating down my throat. I gasp and press my body to his, needing every point of contact, greedily receiving him with the palms of my hands, the expanse of my torso, the strain of my groin, the glide of my legs. I won’t stop it.

I’m wild and lost. My teeth graze his shoulder and I bite down, eliciting a gasp from his perfect mouth. His hips buck in response, pressing us together through the thin cotton of our boxers, our final grip on reality. I grind back in response and we move together, our hands roaming frantically while our lungs gasp and groan. We say nothing coherent, no cautions or promises or acknowledgements of the choice we’re making. Only the desperate murmurings of need, the “oh”s and “yes”es and “more”s that can’t help but escape our wanting mouths. 

His wandering hands slide down my back and under the waistband of my boxers, sliding lower and lower until he’s cupped my ass and pulled me fiercely into his groin with a guttural groan. I grind into him harder, angling my body deep into the warm V of his legs to create the greatest tension. I feel his right hand release my ass and slide against my electrified skin, slowly, travelling around my left hip to the aching and needy flesh of my shaft where he takes hold of me, gripping mercilessly, sweet agony blinding me. I cry out loudly, a groan of mingled satisfaction and urgent lust, thrusting hard into his palm. My vision clears and I look at his face, his eyes wild with passion, his mouth open and libidinous, and I cover that hot wet mouth with my own, my tongue thrusting deep into his throat. I will make him groan. I will make him beg. I will make him howl.

Abruptly I stand, our bodies left cold in parting, and look down at the masterpiece at my feet. From head to toe he is God’s gift to mankind, the reason we clawed our way from the caves and the mire to make a name for ourselves and conquer the beasts beneath us. With my eyes fixed on his I reach down to his waist, grabbing hold of his waistband and sweeping the boxers down his legs in one swift movement before removing my own as well. I stare down at him, his glorious body wreathed in moonlight, the soft glow reflecting off the sweat of his passion that coats his delectable skin. I see his manhood throb and twitch as he looks me up and down. I won’t stop it.

I kneel before him, running my hands up and down the bristly lengths of his lean legs, pulling his knees up and kissing each one. I drag my fingertips down the backs of his upraised thighs and drag my fingernails over his firm ass, igniting the sensitive nerves as I graze agonizingly close to his sex, and he shudders and gasps, his head dropping back. He regains control of his neck and returns to meet my eyes, his gaze fierce and impatient, the caveman present and knowing only his hunger. I hook his right leg over my shoulder and reach around his leg to his face, taking hold of it roughly, speaking without words to his soul, the soul that belongs to me, has always belonged to me.  _ You are mine. I will have you. _ His eyes answer me.  _ I am yours. Take me. _ I slide my fingers into his mouth where he offers me his saliva, and I carry it to his cleft, dipping my finger inside slightly, preparing him. His breathing is accelerating, fear and trust, hesitancy and need, all mingled in his features. I return my fingers to my own mouth and bring my saliva to the end of my shaft, smoothing it across the tip as he watches, eyes wide. I position myself at his entrance and press, slowly, allowing him to gradually release and relax. His head drops back again and his breath hitches, and I wait, barely restraining myself, love holding its own against the beast of need. He breathes again and nods slightly, and I continue, slowly, pressing into him until our pelvises meet, perfectly fitted. He meets my eyes at last and we breathe together, motionless, searching one another’s depths through the bare abyss of our blown pupils, and for a moment we are ourselves again. We are the children at the river, swimming and planning and vowing our futures to each other. We are the wingmen, the blood brothers, the creative partners, the inseparable entities. We are everything, the impetus of love. 

Without so much as a nod we begin to move together in tandem, minds melting away again, devolving once more into animal and hunger and preverbal grunts, our thinking minds forgotten. 

Once again I take hold of that narrow waist and grip, bruisingly, my pace accelerating in response to the heightened pants and whimpers my lover provides. The fingers of his left hand slide into my hair and yank painfully, his right hand leaving my body and finding his own, stroking himself as I drive into him, taking my fill. Our voices are unashamed and unhindered here in the wild. I grunt and roar as I possess him, urging him on, claiming him. His moans are the mournful cries of tension rising, his need devastating, driving us both to delirium. Tears streak his flushed cheeks as he cries out,  _ “yes, yes, God, yes!” _ and the primordial fury fills my brain with a red-black haze, my only thought the having, the wanting, the taking, the conquering. He is mine, he is mine, and I claim him. I dare the beasts and the darkness and the wild to try to take him from me.

Together we ascend the peaks of our pleasure, our movements frantic, our breaths dizzying, our throats guttural and groaning thunderously into the night. As we climax together we return to ourselves, our voices crying each other’s names, our hands finding each other, tears streaming, lips caressing. The caveman’s need is sated and he retreats into the woods, leaving us here in each other’s arms in our right minds, wet and panting and bewildered. The sounds of night envelop us as our voices still, our eyes locked. The wild abandons us to our choice. Our thinking minds having left us in our moment of need now returning, the unspoken question in both of our eyes,  _ What now? _

**Author's Note:**

> Dang, if you all aren't the sweetest with your comments!! Thank you for the love!


End file.
